The Deal
by TheCanadianConspiracy
Summary: After Prussia tries to invade Sealand, Canada makes a deal with him; leave the kid alone, and he'll do him any favour. Too bad he didn't expect the deal to involve a French maid dress. PruCan with implied GerIta.
1. Chapter One

**The Deal: Chapter One**

Canada's downfall began that one day. That one fateful day when he noticed Prussia talking to Sealand after a world meeting.

That in itself was nothing unusual. Prussia adored cute things (as much as he was loath to admit) and Sealand was, despite his faults, quite cute. The fact that someone actually recognized the young boy was not the problem. No, the problem was that glint in Gilbert's eyes as he looked down at the micro-nation. Canada knew that look, having seen it on France many times, and knew that it should never be directed onto one as vulnerable and defenceless as Sealand.

He didn't know why Prussia had taken a sudden interest in invading Sealand, other than his cuteness. He only knew that he had to get involved.

Peter walked away, and Canada took his chance. "What were you doing, eh?" he asked, striding up to the taller one.

Gilbert just turned to blink at him in a mock-innocent way. "Talking to Sealand. He's really cute, isn't he?"

Matthew frowned a little. "I guess," he said.

"You're really lucky to be related to him, Matthew." The albino sighed and draped an arm around Matthew's shoulders, ignorant to the way he tensed at the contact. "All I have is Ludwig, and he's not cute at all."

Canada shrugged out of his embrace, flushing a rather fetching shade of pink. "Yes, well," he said awkwardly. "I'll see you later, Prussia."

He walked away from the ex-nation with an unsettled feeling.

* * *

Both Prussia and Sealand attended the next meeting.

Canada wasn't one to discriminate, but if he had to be honest with himself, he wasn't sure why Prussia and Sealand were even allowed into the meetings. One was a dissolved nation that should have died decades ago while the other was a joke of a country dreamed up by some megalomaniac human crackpot. Though, he did enjoy Gilbert's presence . . . unlike the others, he actually noticed him and talked to him, and there was just something about the man . . .

Matthew shook these thoughts out of his mind as he left the meeting room. He could never be with Gilbert; what did he have to offer him, anyway?

Rounding a corner, Canada stopped in his tracks when he spotted Prussia and Sealand standing together in the otherwise-deserted hallway, talking to each other like they had been before. This time, however, the ex-nation was looming over Sealand with a predatory look in his red eyes. He seemed to be gesturing towards the hall closet (yes, THAT closet, where nations got their freak on) while Peter just looked up at him, naive confusion and trust written on his youthful face.

It all clicked into place for Canada. With a jolt he realized what he had to do. Prussia led the young boy towards the closet, and Matthew charged down the hall. He tackled the albino before he could register what was happening, and craned his neck to throw the startled Peter a desperate look.

"Peter," he said, struggling to hold the protesting Prussian down. "Papa England says he's considering making you a real nation, but only if you hurry back to the meeting room!" Peter's bewildered expression quickly turned ecstatic, and his blue eyes sparkled as Canada put Prussia in a headlock. "Now RUN!"

Sealand did as he was told, and Matthew released the albino. He leapt up to face him with a glare.

"What the hell was that all about?" he said, rubbing his neck from where Canada had held him in a death-grip.

"I was protecting an innocent kid!" Canada replied, crossing his arms. _And probably preventing WWIII in the process_, he thought.

Prussia shook his head. "Whatever, man. It's not like I was gonna hurt him."

"Gilbert, he's twelve years old!" Matthew threw his arms in the air exasperatedly. "That's pedophilia!"

"I'm not a pedophile! It's called shotacon. Ask Japan!"

Canada rolled his eyes, leaning against the corridor wall and pinching the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this."

Prussia's demeanour seemed to change. He shifted closer to the North American, that same predatory glint resurfacing in his eyes. "Is it that you would like me to take _you_ in the closet instead?"

Canada's eyes flew wide open and he backed away, feeling the heat rising to his face. "N-no," he squeaked. He put a hand onto Prussia's chest to stop him from advancing further – as much as he wanted to. "I just want you to leave little Peter unviolated!"

Prussia's eyes rolled spacewards thoughtfully. He tapped a finger to his chin. "Well . . . I might. Let's have a deal."

Feeling his blush dissipate, Matthew raised an eyebrow. "What kind of deal?"

"How about this," Prussia stated. He leaned a little closer, licking his lips, and Matthew could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "You do me a favour, and I'll leave your little brother alone. For good."

Canada smoothed back his hair. "I don't know about this . . . " As much as the northern nation was a peacekeeper, he didn't want to throw himself into potentially dangerous situations anymore than was necessary. And knowing Prussia, this 'favour' probably wasn't going to be a cakewalk.

"C'mon," Gilbert said, throwing an arm around his shoulders again, just as he did before. "You can come to my – uh, Ludwig's – house first thing tomorrow, and we'll talk about it then. There's always time to back out - "

"And let Peter be molested?" Canada snapped, frowning at him.

"Hey, I'm trying to be nice here! So are you in, or not?"

Canada bit his lip. Well, he didn't have much of a choice. It was either agree to Gilbert's little plan – whatever it was – or watch Sealand get invaded and England declare war as a result. With a sigh, he nodded. Prussia grinned.

"Awesome, Matt!" He gave him a little squeeze. Poor Matthew had no clue what ideas were forming in his head. "Can't wait to work with you!"

He walked away, leaving the wary nation behind, next to the closet. He would have a lot of fun with Canada – possibly even more fun than he would with Sealand. Canada was going down indeed. With lace and ruffles. He smiled to himself, making a mental note to get that French maid costume ironed . . .

* * *

**A/N:** Yep, another PruCan story. Alls I can say Canada needs to be in a dress more often. And . . . I hope you like? 8D Review, maybe?


	2. Chapter Two

**The Deal: Chapter Two**

Canada groaned and shut off his alarm clock, which had been ringing shrilly. Far too loud at – what was it, four in the morning? He rubbed his eyes. Why would he ever set it at such an unholy time? Then he remembered. _Prussia._ The things he did to keep world peace . . . He groaned again and threw back the covers. He would have to leave early to reach Germany in time. Being late wouldn't be good for Sealand.

Padding around the cold house, he began getting ready for his trip. After getting dressed, he nudged Kumajiro awake. The bear opened one eye and glared at him. Clearly the animal did not appreciate being awoken at such an hour. He was having such a nice dream about eating a baby seal . . .

"Hey, sleepy head." Matthew gave him another poke, and Kumajiro opened both eyes before yawning widely. "I'm going to Germany. Hold down the fort for me while I'm gone, OK, um . . . Kumquat, or whatever your name is."

The bear got up from his cushion and blinked up at his master. "Who are you?"

Canada just sighed and reached for the BlackBerry on his bedstand. He didn't think it was such a great idea to entrust his house to his pet that couldn't even remember his own _name_, for gods-sakes, but he didn't have much of a choice. "Just . . . don't throw any wild parties while I'm gone, eh?" He was joking, of course, but he really would hate to come home to find the place a wreck. Kumajiro nodded and curled back up on the cushion as Canada put the device in his pocket and walked back out of the bedroom.

Writing a note, Canada stuck it on his front door before leaving. The note told any prospective visitors his whereabouts and when he expected to be back in his country. He didn't think anyone would read it – the only visitor he often got was his brother America, and even that was usually to wheedle him for his fresh water or to pick a fight about softwood lumber – but it would be a nice courtesy on the off-chance that someone did call.

Matthew hesitated in the porch. He ran over a checklist in his head, trying to remember if he had any unfinished business before he left. He was certain he didn't have any meetings planned that day, and Kumajiro had lots of food – he would be fine on his own. Satisfied, he threw his satchel over his shoulder, turned around, and closed the door behind him. Just as he did, the landline rang from within. He didn't hear it.

* * *

Some time later, Matthew arrived on Ludwig's doorstep. A little nervous, he tugged on his tie. He knocked quickly on the wood and stepped backwards. Germany opened the door a few seconds later.

"_Wer ist da?_" he said, squinting and looking around suspiciously.

"I-I'm Canada, Germany," Matthew piped up, adjusting his grip on his satchel. He didn't know any German but he had an idea about what he said. "I'm right here, eh . . . " He hoped his invisibility effect wasn't acting up again.

Ludwig blinked at him for a moment, then started, finally seeming to recognize his existence. "Oh, excuse me for my indiscretion, Canada," he said, switching to English in the other's presence. "Come in. Gilbert's been waiting." Prussia must have told him.

He led Canada into the house. Prussia had, indeed, been waiting most of the morning, sitting in his brother's living room with only his pet bird and Italy's singing from the kitchen to entertain him. Presently he held Gilbird in his hands and appeared to be trying to teach him to speak.

"Repeat after me: A-W-E-S-O-M-E . . . "

Gilbird just tilted his head at him cutely as Canada entered the room, unaided by Germany (he had went off to the kitchen). Matthew looked at him.

"I don't think that's a parrot, eh . . . "

Prussia looked up and grinned at the sight of him standing there. "_Endlich_!" He attacked the North American with a hug. Prussia had been looking forward to seeing Canada, and it wasn't just for the dress. Canada was actually rather nice company. "I was waiting_ for-ever_. I thought you'd never come."

"S-sorry," Matthew said, blushing at the contact. He tried to wriggle out of his grip, feeling a bit claustrophobic. "So, um . . . "

Gilbert released him and grabbed his hand instead. "Come on!" he said, excitement evident in his voice. He began leading him out of the living area and towards his room in Ludwig's basement apartment. "We need to talk about our little deal."

Canada followed him silently through the house, the only other sounds coming from Germany and Italy talking in the kitchen. He felt his BlackBerry vibrating from his pocket; someone must have been trying to reach him. He ignored it, letting Prussia drag his to his room.

* * *

"Make yourself at home, Matt," the albino said, locking his room door behind himself and Canada. _You'll be here for a while_, he thought. Canada withdrew his hand from his grip, feeling butterflies in his stomach when he realized that he was _alone_, with Gilbert, in his room. It was all rather surreal.

Gilbert crossed the room to flop down onto his bed, and Matthew took in the sight of his space. The room was painted black and red, and metal band posters lined the walls. Most strange of all, though, was the portrait of an old man hanging above his bed. Prussia was weirder than he thought.

"I know, it's awesome," Prussia said, smirking. He reached over to his nightstand and pulled a file out of the drawer. Canada walked over to the bed and watched as he took a batch of papers out of the folder. His BlackBerry vibrated again, but he continued to ignore it, reaching out for the papers.

"I wrote this up last night," he said, shoving the bundle into Matthew's outstretched hands. "They're the terms of our agreement. A contract, if you will."

"Term of our agreement . . . " Matthew muttered, sitting next to his albino friend on the bed, laying down his satchel, and flipping through the file. He tried to read it (it was long – at least ten pages) but the constant vibrating of his smartphone was proving to be a distraction. He frowned. Hardly anyone ever called or even texted him unless a major crisis was occurring in his land. Putting the file down, he stood up and retrieved his BlackBerry from his pocket.

"I'm sorry," he said. Prussia raised an eyebrow at him. "I have to take this."

He didn't wait for Gilbert's reaction, walking up to the door and unlocking it. He stepped into the hallway and accepted the call. It was from England.

"Hello?"

"Is this your idea of a joke, Canada?"

Matthew started at the sound of England's irate voice. "A-Arthur, what's going on!?" At first he thought England might have mistaken him for America again, but that couldn't be so. He had referred to him correctly. So what had he done?

"_Peter's_ what's been going on!" the Brit replied. "I've been trying to reach you for the past while. He hasn't stopped bothering me since yesterday, saying that you promised I would make him a nation! Now the little sprog is heartbroken! What do you have to say for yourself!?"

Canada kneaded his temples. He should've known that it would've come to this. In retrospect, perhaps telling Sealand to go to Arthur wasn't the best course of action. Still, it was the best idea he could come up with at the time. "I – I'm sorry . . . I d-didn't - " He could've told him the alternative, but he didn't think a frustrated England would appreciate it. "L-look, I'm very sorry, but I'm kind of held up right now . . . "

"What? Where are you?"

"In Germany. It's a long story. I – we can sort this out. I'll talk to you later, OK? 'Bye."

Canada ended the call. It was a bit rude, he knew, but he really wasn't in the mood to deal with England's problems at the moment. He returned the phone to his pocket and stepped back into Gilbert's room.

"S-sorry about that," he said sheepishly, returning to the bed. Gilbert dismissed his apology and thrust the papers back towards him.

"_Ja_, _ja_, whatever," he said. "Just take it." He was getting a bit impatient.

Matt took the contract and adjusted his glasses on his nose. He tried to read it – and he was glad to see that it was all in English – but it was still a tome of clauses and conditions and protections against loopholes. He looked back up at Gilbert. "Prussia, I can't possibly read all this."

Gilbert waved a hand, as if waving off his concerns. "Relax. It basically just says that by signing it you agree to be my manservant for seventy-two hours. That's all."

Matthew tossed the papers onto the bed. "This is ridiculous." _And manservant?_ He thought. _With Prussia, more like slave._

"A deal's a deal," Gilbert said, shrugging. "Do you want to sign this, or shall I go find Sealand . . . ?" Truthfully he felt a bit guilty for using such a manipulative way to get closer to the cute Canadian, but he pushed those feelings down. He was too awesome for shame.

Matthew's eyes widened. He shook his head and snatched up the papers, ignoring the albino's triumphant smirk. "Alright, alright, I'll sign it, eh," he said, leafing to the back of the file as Prussia handed him a pen. He signed his name in the appropriate spaces and passed the pen and papers back to Gilbert.

"Why do I get the feeling that I've just sold my soul to the devil?" he said, more to himself than Gilbert as the albino turned away to place the file back in the drawer.

Prussia turned back to him with a smug grin. He didn't even bother to read any of the clauses! It was too perfect. "Don't worry, Matt," he said, patting his shoulder in a would-be comforting gesture if he didn't look like he was ready to eat Canada right up. Matthew shivered. "I get my manservant, you keep your little brother just the way you like him. Everybody's happy!"

Matthew was inclined to disagree, but he kept his mouth shut and wondered instead how he ever found himself in these kinds of situations. He watched as Prussia got up from the bed and took a large paper bag out of his wardrobe. Matthew studied the bag warily as Gilbert presented it to him.

"That's your uniform," he said. "You start now, so put it on. You'll have to wear it for the next three days. You can change in the bathroom upstairs - " And here he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Unless you want me to help you change down here - "

Matthew flushed deep crimson and shot up from the bed. "N-no thanks," he said, making his way towards the door with his satchel and unlocking it. He held the bags tightly in his arms. "I – I'll just go upstairs."

Gilbert smiled, watching him leave with the outfit he had borrowed from Italy. "Come back when you're done!" He had others, so Feliciano wasn't going to miss that one. And for once in his life he was glad that his brother and his boyfriend were so into role-playing.

* * *

Upstairs, in the bathroom, Canada pulled the uniform out of the bag. He looked at it and paled.

"Dear mother of maple . . . "

_How am I supposed to wear THAT?_

* * *

Translations (All German)

Wer ist da? = Who's there?

Endlich! = Finally!/At last!

Ja = Yes

I'm fairly certain all of these are correct. Let me know if they're not, though.

**A/N:** Hee, thanks for all the lovely reviews and alerts people -heart-

Canada puts on the dress next chapter. I promise. I can't rush the plot too much, you see . . .


	3. Chapter Three

**The Deal: Chapter Three**

When Prussia said 'uniform' this was _not_ what he had in mind.

He took the outfit from the bag and placed each item on the bathroom counter. There was a short black velvet dress with a white ruffled hem, an apron of white lace, stockings with a garter, a black headpiece, and of course, frilly white shorts, among other things. All the makings of a French maid costume. If he had to wear that all the time, he might die of embarrassment before the three days were up. His cheeks burned just thinking of it.

Still, he changed into the outfit. It was part of the deal, and he couldn't back out now, no matter how much humiliation he might suffer. He was doing it for Sealand and for the world.

He zipped up the dress and was surprised to find that he didn't exactly hate the cross-dressing. Other than the brassiere – which would take some getting used to – the uniform was surprisingly comfortable. He was lucky that it wasn't too big or too small.

Once he finished changing, he turned to examine himself in Ludwig's full-length mirror. Well, he did have to admit. The dress was kind of . . . sexy. _Just not on me_, he thought. Francis would've been proud.

He stuffed his old clothes into his satchel and placed it inside the sink cabinet. If he was going to be Prussia's lackey for a few days, he would probably be living and sleeping there, in Germany's house. He just hoped that Ludwig wouldn't mind too much. Closing the cabinet doors, he steeled himself to go outside, into the hall; he couldn't hide in the bathroom all day. It had to happen sooner or later . . .

He opened the bathroom door and took a tentative step into the hall. Before he could move any further, though, Italy, who had been walking by, collided with him.

"Vee~?" He said, stepping back to look at the other nation. He didn't even bother with a greeting. "Why is Canada wearing a dress?"

Canada turned as red as the maple leaf on his flag. "It's – I didn't – P-Prussia - " Matthew couldn't even speak properly, he was so mortified. He tugged on the end of his dress, feeling more self-conscious than he had in his entire life as the Italian studied him, and for once he wished his invisibility effect would kick in.

But Feliciano was oblivious. "I once wore a dress when playing with Germany~" he said. "Is Canada going to play with Prussia in the dress?"

Canada flushed even more. He did not want to think about that kind of "playing." Especially while wearing a French maid costume.

"N-no, Italy."

Feliciano smiled knowingly.

"I'm not, really!" he said, sweat-dropping.

The brown-haired one just giggled at his exasperated expression and patted his shoulder in a friendly manner. "You're funny, _mio amico_!" He winked. "Are you staying today?~"

"Y-yeah." Canada gulped. He stepped around the other, not liking the knowledgeable look in his eyes. "C-can you please not tell anyone about this, Italy?"

Feliciano nodded eagerly. "Of course not!"

"Er, thanks. Well, I'll talk to you later, Italy. I – I have to t-talk to Prussia - "

"_Bene_, Canada! _Ciao_!" Italy smiled and waved as the blond made his way back to Prussia's room. He had acted as if the whole thing was the most normal occurrence in the world.

At the bottom of the stairs, Matt ran into Gilbert. He had stepped out of his room just as Canada reached the last step; he looked him up and down with a smirk.

"Hello, Matt." He reached forward to trail his fingertips along Canada's arms and up over his shoulders, intently studying the sight before him.

Matthew said nothing.

"So, how are you liking it?~" Prussia ran his hands over the fabric down his sides, pressing and dipping in certain places on the boy's torso. It was a bit embarrassing, but he hadn't been touched by another nation in a while, and it actually felt kind of good.

He worked up his voice, though the other's caresses were awfully distracting. "W-what are you doing, eh?"

"Just making sure it fits properly, Matt~" he replied, tugging a little on the apron strings.

Matthew knew that was bullshit, but didn't comment. "Where did you get this, anyway?" he asked instead.

"Borrowed it from Feli. My brother's into some really kinky shit." He paused. "You know that riding crop he has?"

Canada started. He didn't want to think about that. "You know what," he said. "Forget I asked." Gilbert took his hands away and Canada felt just a bit disappointed.

"I'm hungry," he said suddenly. He remembered that he hadn't had breakfast yet, even though it was getting closer to noon. Well, the truth was, Gilbert was used to getting up late and eating late ever since the German Democratic Republic dissolved and he could live back with his brother. "Hey, Matt. Make me some pancakes." Matthew just looked at him. Well, he supposed being a lackey meant more than standing around and looking pretty. "And while you're at it, bring me some beer too."

Canada raised an eyebrow. "At eleven in the morning?"

"I give in to beer pressure. _Kesesesese_."

Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, Matt turned around and began walking back up the staircase. "Alright, if that's what you want." It would be annoying to wait on the ex-nation, but if he was just cooking and such the whole experience might actually be somewhat bearable.

He might even survive the next few days.

* * *

Canada had to walk through the living room to get to the kitchen. In the hall, he bumped into Germany.

Germany just looked at him, shook his head, and began to walk away. No doubt the whole dress thing was his brother's idea. He pitied the North American.

"Uh . . . w-wait, please!" Canada said, turning red again. He had to get this over with. Ludwig turned back to look at him.

"M-may I use your kitchen?" he asked.

Ludwig nodded slightly with sympathy. "Sure, Canada. Whatever you want, just ask."

And then he walked away.

Canada let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding and continued on to the kitchen. He had never seen Germany's kitchen before, but it couldn't be too complicated to get around. Pancakes were very simple to make, anyway. He walked into the room and began looking for ingredients.

Halfway through making the pancakes, Italy came into the kitchen and asked if he needed help. Canada declined politely. He was the one who made the deal, after all, and he couldn't get others to do his work for him. Italy just smiled at him in his usual amicable way and drifted off again, probably to ask Germany to tie his shoelaces or something. Matthew was left alone to finish making the pancakes. Once they were done, he opened the fridge to find a beer – there was only one left – then searched Germany's cupboards for a pancake topping. He didn't have any real maple syrup, but he did have golden syrup. Canada, personally, didn't think very highly of the taste, but it would have to do. He put the food on a tray and went to look for Prussia.

He was in his room. The door was open, and Matt gently pushed his way inside, careful not to disturb the plate of syrup-covered pancakes. The smell of the freshly-made treats wafted through the air in front of him, and Prussia looked up at the other from his seat on the bed as he entered.

"Awesome, Matt!" Prussia grinned and leaned over to give Canada a one-armed hug after he placed the tray next to him on the bed. Matt felt his heart jump. "I don't know how I ever survived without you."

"Yes, well . . . " Matthew shifted on the bed, adjusting his skirt a little. He watched as the other slid his arm away from him and began digging into the breakfast. If all he had to do was sit and watch him eat, then he was satisfied.

After a moment, Gilbert looked up from his food. "You're not hungry, Matt?" he offered.

Matthew shook his head. "I already had breakfast. But thanks anyway." His internal clock was still in Canada, so it would be a few hours before he felt hungry again.

Prussia shrugged and turned back to the pancakes. "Suit yourself," he said. He began shoving forkfuls of the syrupy cake into his mouth. It was a little messy, since Canada had poured on a liberal amount of the golden syrup; he figured that Prussia might like them sweet. Since it was so messy, a bit of syrup had stuck to Gil's bottom lip. Matthew looked at him.

Putting his fork down, Prussia licked at his lip, pink tongue flicking out. Matt stared. The tongue darted out again. Damn, how much syrup could there be? Again. He wondered what it might be like to -

Prussia caught him looking and, smiling a little, captured his eye. Canada heart seemed to jump again and he glanced towards the side wall, embarrassed.

"These are _goood_ pancakes, Mattie," Gilbert purred, turning back to spear some more pieces of the treat on his fork. Canada flushed. Oh, he knew _exactly_ what he was doing, didn't he? He could probably sense everything.

"T-thanks," replied Matt, adjusting his glasses on his nose, trying to sound collected.

For a while neither of them said anything else. Prussia had almost finished the pancakes. Before he devoured them all, though, a bit of syrup had somehow gotten on his hand. Canada watched, against his better judgement, as the albino paused for a second, then lifted the finger to his mouth and began licking the syrup off.

Oh hell. He definitely knew what he was doing.

Prussia didn't stop. _That bastard_, Canada thought, pulling at his skirt and chewing his lip. He kept looking straight at him as he sucked at his finger, _smirking_, an obvious mockery, and Matt was beginning to think that he might not survive after all.

* * *

Translations (All Italian)

mio amico = my friend

Bene, Canada! Ciao! = OK, Canada! 'Bye!

**A/N:** Once again, thanks for all the reviews and alerts. It makes me feel special xD

Just so everybody knows, I'd totally accept any fanart for this story. And if it's any incentive, I'd be willing to do an art trade. Not like I'm begging or anything . . . -coughcough-

In the next chapter, Canada gets kidnapped! (Cliche, right? Oh well.) Who kidnaps him? Well, you'll have to wait and see.


End file.
